Eric Sable The Serpentine Conspiracy
by Steven Cooper
Summary: A monster stalks the halls of Hogwarts. While many wonder when it will strike next, Eric investigates how it could be there at all.
1. Chapter 1

Eric Sable set aside his apron and looked out from his shop window at the shaded morning. Everything was bustling as usual, wizards and witches mulling about getting this thing or that. He sighed; getting the table and chairs through that mess all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron was going to be a real fight, but it would have to be done. His shop didn't pay for itself without customers, after all.

He looked back to the work table with some satisfaction. Ten years of re-assembling other people's cast offs had finally paid off in giving him a marketable skill, allowing him to actually get some decent materials for this year at Hogwarts. It was easy enough to survive last year on the leftover books from other students, but each year that would get harder. Far better to get into the habit of earning his way. Besides, he wasn't going to Hogwarts out of the headmaster's charity. Eventually, he'd have a real bill to pay. Best to keep it as small as possible.

Looking to the back of his shop, Eric mused a bit. There was Mr. Ollivander's end table, the display stands for Quality Quidditch, and the refinished desk for Gringots ( now _there's_ a job that'll pay the rent ). He'd have to close his schedule. The semester was growing closer and he needed time to prepare. It was almost a shame he was becoming a wizard. A fellow could grow rich being the only carpenter on Diagon Alley. For all the abilities magic gave people, they've all but forgotten how to set a joint or drive a dowel. The first week Eric came to find a summer job, his abilities with shelves quickly gave him all the customers he could manage while still taking Sunday off. There were even orders from Knockturn Alley, though he insisted that they pick up their orders.

Loading up his wagon, Eric started up the alley towards the Leaky Cauldron. Passing Mrs. Peal, his landlady, he inquired if there was some way he could close the shop yet keep the space. "Well, young man, there are a number of shopkeepers who would be most distressed if you didn't return next year. I'll see if we can't work some way of keeping your space." Leaving with a wink, she set off for Madam Malkin's. Eric was sure that she would be able to work out some arrangement. She had been very helpful in getting him set up, and even covered for him when the Ministry of Magic checked into whether or not he was breaking the ban on underage wizardry. For himself, Eric never felt he was breaking the rule; just bending it a ways. It was, after all, the only way he could get his lathe spinning fast enough to get the legs for her nightstand carved out properly.

As he pulled his wagon up the street, Eric could see that a few of his fellow students passing by. He doubted that they were getting their supplies this early. More likely that they lived in the area or that their parents had business to attend. He never paid them too much mind; they never said hello, and he didn't make many friends at all. Really, he didn't feel the need. Most of the students were polite enough, and Neville would probably need tutoring again. His own house would probably be more inviting this year, now that he could talk to the first-years as a Ravenclaw, and not as a Slytherin who changed houses.

It was almost as if thinking about his original house conjured bad luck. As Eric turned up the alley on the final leg of the pull, there was Draco Malfoy, the most obnoxious of all the Slytherins in his class, flanked by his cronies Crabbe and Goyle. Eric had dearly hoped that they didn't see him, or perhaps didn't recognize him. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

"Well, well! If it isn't Hogwarts' orphan daughter. Nice ponytail, Erica!" Eric had braided his hair in order to keep it from tangling in his tools. Admittedly, his waist-length hair was unusual for a boy, even in Diagon Alley. However, it was always accepted at Hogwarts, and anybody here found it disturbing, at least nobody was rude enough to mention it.

If it was just a case of words, Eric might not have even bothered with it. Crabbe, however, decided that insults weren't enough. Grabbing onto Eric's braid, he pulled Eric sideways and swung him into the apothecary's. Crabbe's victory was brief, however, before a vicious kick to the back of his knees brought him crashing to the ground. Goyle wasn't much more of a challenge as Eric dodged his lunge, catching his arm and sending him flying across the cobblestones. Both of them took hard strikes to their heads, stunning them for the time being. This left Malfoy, which left Eric with a real puzzle. Draco really wasn't as much a challenge as he thought himself, especially without his muscleheads. Unfortunately, there was the small matter of Draco's family. Even Eric knew that his father, Lucius, was the most influential of Hogwarts' governors – a fact due to a well earned reputation for treachery.

This problem was solved for him by the growing crowd, which eventually included Draco's father. "I must say, it's hardly fitting for classmates to be brawling in the streets, even if it is with those who have seen fit to leave the finest house in the school." Eric was chilled down his spine as he looked into Lucius Malfoy's face. Whether it was simply the way he held himself or an enchantment, it didn't matter. Eric understood completely why so many people found it simpler, safer, and altogether less worrisome to either stay out of his way or to go along with his wishes.

This being the case, Eric was sure that the crowd was his salvation. Even if Lucius wanted to curse him, he had no cause to. Draco was untouched, and more than a few would vouch that Eric was defending himself. Not waiting to find out if there was anything more, Eric did his best to excuse himself, gather up the ropes to his cart, and finish his trip to the Cauldron. The furniture was undamaged, and there was dinner and payment to look forward to.

Tom the bartender was more than happy to see the table set back. Eric had deliberately darkened the varnish to make sure the set would blend in with all the other tables and not bear a recently-repaired look. Although he liked Tom, when he tried to barter down the ten galleon price tag, Eric didn't budge. One galleon for each chair and four for the table with dinner when the order was done – it was all the quote and that was Tom's signature on the order. If he didn't like it, he could replace the set at three times the cost while Eric was in his rights to confiscate the set and sell it down the street for twice what he was making on the order. As Eric sampled his stew, he smirked with satisfaction. There was nothing quite as satisfying as being the only carpenter on the Alley.

As he delved into his dinner, Eric noted that, in the far corner of the Cauldron's main room, there sat an unusual couple. There was no doubt but that they were muggles; their fashions were far too modern for anything else. The man was easily six and a half feet tall and professionally dressed, his black suit and tie sharply cut and fitted. The woman was over a head shorter than he was, attired in black with white trim and blouse. Both of them wore the appearance of the well-off. Clearly, these were people who were used to be in control of their surroundings, for the man was obviously uncomfortable being so out of place, while the woman appeared to be waiting.

Eric couldn't help but overhear their conversation. He was continually suggesting that "… this ( whatever 'this' may be ) was a bad idea, and hardly the best for their daughter." She responded plainly each time that if what she suspected was true, then they had no options – she would have to be taught for her own good and for those around her. Eric carefully watched them, not wishing to disturb them or to be caught as an eavesdropper. As they spoke to each other, he saw that through his stiff exterior. The man listened and seemed to put thought into everything he heard. He never answered his wife quickly or interrupted her, even though she spoke much more softly than he did. This led Eric to the conclusion that he really did care for his family, even if he did seem a bit aloof.

The answer to this riddle came in the form of Professor Dumbledore, who seemed to just appear from a corner of the room. Sitting across from the man, he was the exact opposite of the gentleman facing him. His clothes were wild in color, his hair was generally unkempt, and he bore an expression of a gentle grandfather about to sit down for evening tea. "Good afternoon Mister Wainwright, and good afternoon to you as well, Dorothy. Your uncle sends his regards."

The woman smiled. "Thank you professor. I trust everything is well at the school?"

"The school is as it has been, and we are all busily preparing for the fall term and the coming year – which brings us to the matter at hand." Dumbledore reached inside his robe. "Even though you never were able to demonstrate an ability in magic, you always had a gift for recognizing it. I believe you are expecting this?" Withdrawing his hand, the Headmaster produced a small letter, the likes of which every Hogwarts student had received at one time or another.

The man seemed less than pleased. "So it's true - she's a witch, like her aunt?"

Dumbledore seemed completely unperturbed. "I do understand what you're going through. There are many among non-magical families who find our traditional terms distressing because of what those words have come to represent. For your sake, let us say that your daughter is unusually gifted, and because of this she needs special education regarding how to control these gifts to the benefit of herself and others."

The man folded his hands, resting his chin in thought before finally speaking. "I've always known that Naomi was special, and I've never denied her anything she's truly needed. If going to your school is what she needs, then that's where she'll go." The woman gave a small smile and took her husband's hand in gratitude.

Dumbledore also seemed pleased. "It is good for the school to take in students with such loving fathers. We will do our very best to make this as easy for you as possible." His head suddenly snapped upward. "Eric, won't you come here please?"

Catching his breath and cursing himself for listening in, Eric left his cooling stew to obey the Headmaster. Dumbledore introduced him to the Wainwrights. "Eric is a resident student at our school, working his summer here to pay his expenses. If you wish, he can make all the necessary purchases for you so that you won't have to navigate our shops until you're more familiar with our customs."

The man stood upward, towering over Eric, but with an expression that was far more welcoming than Lucius Malfoy's. "Roger Wainwright; and this is my wife Dorothy. Naomi is our only daughter; I don't want her spoiled, but she also deserves the best."

There was something about Roger's manner, the way that he addressed Eric, that put him at ease. While clearly setting himself in charge of their encounter, Eric didn't feel threatened at all, but rather was filled with a desire to please him. "I've gotten to know the shops rather well, so supplies won't be a problem. Most of the storeowners will already know what she needs, but she'll have to be present to purchase a wand from Ollivander's and Madam Malkin won't sell robes without a proper fitting."

Roger seemed reasonably impressed with Eric, as well. "There's no other way?"

Eric was sure. "Mister Ollivander gives the impression of being disorganized, and he is. However, no one knows how to match a wand better than he does. Madam Malkin is also an expert; to go with anyone else is to accept second-best."

Roger nodded. "That settles it, then. We'll see you here a week from now. I'll leave the exact details with the bartender." The Wainwrights excused themselves, while Dumbledore seemed to disappear into whatever corner he came from ( with Eric wondering if he was wearing any of his special woolen socks from last year ). With all the excitement finished, Eric went back to his stew, still tasty and satisfying, if a bit cooler.

He managed to finish the majority of it before Amiel Blott, the owner of Flourish & Blott's Booksellers, plopped on the bench opposite of him. He was a roundish sort, though not too unfit – it struck Eric as unfortunate that most bookish people could fall into that category ( he'd have to keep active in order to avoid that fate ). "Ah, young man, I've examined your work up and down the street. Marvelous, just marvelous! You're the talk of the Alley these days, did you know that?"

As much as Eric enjoyed appreciation, he disliked open praise; it felt to phony to him, and it always meant the same thing. "Thank you for the complements, sir. Is there something you're looking to have done?"

"Ah, one who gets down to the point – excellent. I've recently had the most exciting news! Gilderoy Lockhart is coming to a special signing at our store a week from now. I expect to be filled beyond capacity, and I need a special set of shelves to display his stock. I'm thinking ten shelves total, five levels with a foot clearance for each, four feet wide broken into two cases. I'll also need a signing table…"

Eric expected that the man would've gone on much longer if he hadn't stopped him. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not taking any more orders this year. I have three jobs that need to get done, two of which will now clearly be desired before Mister Lockhart's visit, and I have my own preparations to go through before I may leave for school."

Mister Blott was dumbfounded. "But that's not possible! I don't have anything suitable for the job, and there's no way to acquire anything in a timely manner. Magical sources take too long, and muggles can't deliver here – they ask too many questions, and the Ministry would have a fit if they had to alter memories without a proper reason. You have to help me; I'll pay anything!"

Eric thought on that for a minute. It would mean a swift jolt of three sixteen-hour days to accomplish this and meet his prior orders to Ollivander's and Quality Quidditch. That would be followed by two days of gathering supplies, and one day of collapsed exhaustion. However, there could be something that would make it worth it. "Two sets of shelves: eight inches deep, four feet wide, one foot spacing, five shelves each set. One table, light varnish and gilded. One matching chair, upholstered with gold fabric."

His guest's face brightened considerably. "You can do it – really?"

Eric smiled, for he had the man hooked. "The terms are: you accept responsibility for my shop's rent, payable to Mrs. Peal, for the upcoming months while I am at school. The doors are to be locked and all materials inside are to remain secure and untouched. Heating and ventilation will be unnecessary, but the space is to remain rented in my name."

Amiel's face suddenly turned red. "That's ridiculous!"

Eric remained firm. "The order is ridiculous. The timing is just as ridiculous. A natural result is that the fee will be ridiculous. Please keep in mind that we're talking about a proper display table and shelves, made of thick wood; none of this muggle splinterboard. The set also has to be completed in a few days to allow for varnishing and detailing. Incidentally; this fee covers materials, too." After staring blankly for a second, Amiel sat back and nodded. Eric turned back to his meal. "Come to the store this evening, and I'll have the order ready for you to sign."


	2. Chapter 2

A week later found Eric more tired than he had been in his life. Fortunately, most of his work was done, and he managed to purchase most of Naomi Wainwright's materials while the varnish dried, which made the storefront to noxious to remain in, anyway. Quality Quidditch had their stands, Flourish and Blott's had their furniture ( Eric had carefully avoided any conversation about helping to keep them stocked ), and he could deliver Ollivander's table on the same visit as picking up Naomi's wand.

The crowd was already forming outside of the bookstore as Eric walked by. He was pleased that most of the buyers would be crowded in one place – a place where he didn't have to go. He picked up the books he needed for the fall term last night as an added bonus for delivering on time without being too early. One part of Eric wanted to wait about the bookstore; based on the booklist this year, the Dark Arts teacher had to show up. However, the young Ms. Wainwright was probably waiting, and it wouldn't do to be late.

The Wainwrights were, indeed, waiting for Eric at the Leaky Cauldron. Eric noted that Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright seemed to be dressed the exact same way as they were before. This time, however, they had their daughter between them. Naomi was a small girl, narrowly built. Besides magic, her light brown hair was another of her mother's traits she gained. Clearly her father contributed more to her manner than her looks, as her stance was as severe and posture-perfect as his was. She bore a dark, unhappy expression, looking more like someone facing judgment than a student going shopping.

Roger introduced them, encouraging Naomi to go with Eric into the dimly lit rear of the tavern. He would return in the evening to pick up his daughter and settle on the bill. "You have fine references, young man. I'm sure you'll do well."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Naomi is the cousin of Katie Bell. We all know what you went through on her behalf, and that speaks very well of you." Roger finished by motioning his hand as if tipping a hat.

Eric expressed his gratitude with some embarrassment. He never did things for the sake of reputation, but it was clear that he was building one. This left Eric with some misgivings. He never wanted a reputation for they had the tendency of becoming one of two things: either something you had to live up to, or something you had to live down. Eric didn't want either.

He guided Naomi through the patrons, doing his best to use proper manners that he never had an opportunity to learn. His charge, however, seemed to have a gift for drifting between things, weaving in and out of tight crowds as if they were never even there. This served extremely well until they came to the rear of the tavern, just shy of the entrance to Diagon Alley. There their paths were crossed by Marcus Flint and the Slytherin quidditch team.

"How's the horsetail, Sable?" Flint showed up at Diagon Alley periodically to heap misery on Eric's life, never forgetting or forgiving Eric for the embarrassment Slytherin suffered after the Gryffindor match. The fact that it was the Slytherin team that caused the incident by trashing Eric's belongings for doing what he was supposed to never seemed to occur to him; therefore all the teasing, tripping, and torturing that he could inflict was somehow justified. Flint slid sideways to flank Eric, who slowly rotated to face him. Eric was deeply tired of having his hair pulled each time he passed a Slytherin student, and it was getting to hurt.

Seeing Naomi, Flint's attention was turned towards a new target. "So, the do-gooder has another charity case. Does this one have you trained better than your Chaser girlfriend did?" Eric bristled at Flint's attack. Katie Bell was one of the nicest people he had ever met, caring for him properly after Flint and his cronies had gotten through pounding him senseless. He wasn't about to have her name dragged in the dirt.

Suddenly, Flint stiffened as his eyes locked with Naomi's. She said nothing, nor did she move, but something about her seemed to grow even as Flint's bullying strength appeared to dissolve. As she took one step then another towards Flint, all seven Slytherins backed away from her. It was as if they'd catch fire if she touched them. Flint backed away so quickly that he didn't notice the chair behind him until he was falling over it.

As entertaining as the scene before him was it was also quite disturbing; so Eric brought an end to it, gesturing to the back exit. It wasn't fast enough to keep people from noticing, however; Eric could tell by the whispers around him. Seeing what she did, all the patrons had Naomi picked as Slytherin for sure – Salazar's blood if ever a person bore it.

Unfortunately, Naomi heard them as well. "Who is Salazar?"

Eric was startled by her sudden break from silence. Her voice was like she was – quiet and even, but possessing a deep, dark power that could easily be considered frightening by most, including him. "Salazar Slytherin; one of the four founders of Hogwarts' School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of the four of them, he was the darkest, and his house has been known for stirring up more trouble than any of the others, attracting the ambitious and the callous more than the other three."

As Eric opened the wall behind the tavern, Naomi looked on complacently. He noted a second disturbing thing about her; she took everything that happened around her with a disturbing calm. Normally, when someone from a muggle family sees Diagon Alley for the first time, everything is an amazement or a surprise. Naomi simply seemed to take it in impartially, as if she was examining an oil painting.

As they continued down the street, their walk was punctuated with questions. Naomi asked about the school, the teachers, the students, anything and everything that would be considered relevant or even interesting. It was a revelation for Eric as well, for he wouldn't have believed that he knew so much about the school until he was answering question after question. He finally caught a break at Madam Malkin's, sitting down and resting while Naomi was being measured.

Eric looked at himself in one of the shop's mirrors, examining his hair as if he was seeing himself for the first time. True, it was always long, and he never thought to cut it, but after spending a summer in London, he came to realize how different he looked from everyone around him. Sure, there were boys and men with longer hair, but none of it came down as far as his did. Only the women wore their hair that long. As much as he hated to admit it, he did appear drastically off. Perhaps if he looked more like some of the other students, or perhaps like Roger Wainwright, then…

"I wouldn't cut it."

Eric jumped from his seat at the sound of someone behind him. Naomi had finished her fittings, and was hovering over him. Eric collected his wits. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Your hair – you were thinking about cutting it back to look more typical. I wouldn't." Eric suddenly noticed that she had the most piercing eyes; dark brown, almost black, and completely uniform in color. It was as if she wasn't simply looking at him, she was looking into him.

What surprised Eric most was that he was thinking about cutting his hair. "Um, why would it matter to you?"

"I didn't say that it did. I voiced an opinion. I would never change my appearance because of what other people think. It diminishes who I am, and my ability to control my life." Of all the odd habits and quirks that she exhibited so far, perhaps the most disturbing thing Eric felt about Naomi was how much she acted like an adult, and an extremely focused one at that.

This left Eric confused and befuddled. "Yes, um, thanks I guess. We should be moving on." He led her on into the alley, making their way down the street. They'd have to fight upstream against the crowds working their way to Flourish & Blott's now, but at least the stores would be clear.

"Eric! Over 'ere!" The booming voice of Hagrid could be heard over the din of the street. He had parked himself just shy of Knockturn Alley and was waving them over. Eric was extremely pleased to see Hagrid again after months of work in London, and it was a full five minutes of catching up before his foster uncle reminded him of his manners. "Well, now's we got all that settled, d'yeh plan to introduce me?"

Eric blushed when he realized how rude he was being. "Sorry: Naomi Wainwright, this is Hagrid – the Hogwarts groundskeeper." Naomi simply looked upward, fixing Hagrid with the same gaze she shared with so many others that day.

Hagrid, however, did not seem to be as taken aback as everyone else. "Wainwright – lessee, I know that name. Waitaminnit; yer gran'mother would'n' be Clarissa Bell, would she?" Naomi nodded. "I went to school with her; yeh must be Dorothy's daughter! I knew that girl had magic in 'er, even if she couldn' use it. Yeh'll be sorted into Gryffindor for sure - don' you worry."

If Naomi had any thoughts on how much Hagrid knew about her family, she didn't show it. "It was very nice meeting you, Hagrid, and I hope we talk again. I need to finish my shopping."

"Well a'course you do. I gotta make my way up the back here. Hate to do it, but they got the best slug repellent, and you'll be potting mandrakes this year!" Hagrid seemed more than pleased about that, even though Eric wasn't looking forward to it. Of all the magical plants, mandrakes might not have been the most dangerous, but they were Eric's least favorite.

Moving onward up the alley, Naomi continued her questioning. "This sorting – you said a hat does it?"

"That's right. It's enchanted to place students where their traits would serve them best." Eric stopped by his shop to pick up the end table. Fortunately, it was light enough to be held over his shoulder.

"So, how does one choose their house?" Naomi seemed determined to stay on the subject.

"You don't. The hat chooses." This seemed an odd line of questioning, since they had already gone over it.

"The hat never makes mistakes?" Eric could tell that her mind was working on something, but he couldn't fathom what.

"No, the hat can make mistakes." Eric's encounter with it certainly was one. Being sorted into Slytherin led to the worst months of his life. "When it does, there are ways to correct the situation, but it doesn't happen very often."

"I see." Naomi looked upward as they arrived at Ollivander's. Eric sorely wished that her expression would change, just once.

Mister Ollivander was very pleased to see Eric. "Ah, the end table. Very well done, and so intricately carved, too. You certainly have a gift for woodwork. That was eight Galleons, correct?"

"Yes, sir, though I'll forego the bill if you'd find a suitable wand for her." Eric moved aside to present Naomi to the shopkeeper, who instantly set about measuring her. She had taken to measuring him up as well, her eyes absorbing every manner and movement he took.

Finally, Ollivander brought out the first of his samples – a nine inch willow and griffin feather. However, when he presented it to Naomi, her answer was simple. "No."

Ollivander was stunned. "Excuse me?"

Naomi was as annoyingly calm as ever, and completely resolute. "No – it's the wrong one. May I see another, please?"

Distressed that his procedure for selecting a wand had been disrupted, he nevertheless brought out another sample, which Naomi looked at and rejected without touching again. Ollivander found this quite unacceptable. "Young lady, I feel I should explain – the wand chooses the witch, not the other way around."

"Sir, I understand what you're saying. However, this wand is unsuitable. May I see another?"

It took more than a dozen presentations before Eric finally caught a flicker in her eyes that suggested that she found something. "Sir? The second case on the right, fourteenth row from the floor, on the third row of shelves from the rear. May I see the wand in that one?"

Ollivander was stunned. Moving in a fog of amazement and confusion, he drew out the case she wanted and examined it. A look of astonishment sprung to his face as he brought it forward. "Six and a half inches, with Chimera mane – extremely resilient. Perhaps, just perhaps…" He gingerly handed the wand to Naomi, who drew it into a backhanded spiral. The result was a swirl of dark fog dotted with lights like a thousand fireflies, which curved upward, forming an intricate arch framing her, with an enormous capstone where emerald green letters clearly spelled out – _'Fate Cast By Will'_.

Mr. Ollivander was speechless. Eric was stunned. Naomi, however, was as complacent as ever. "This is acceptable."

Eric and Naomi returned to the Leaky Cauldron to wait for her parents. All her supplies were packed beside her. In addition to everything else, she took a side trip to purchase a familiar – a stately black raven, fairly young and immaculately plumed. Eric had conceded at the time that, while the letter indicated only three recommendations, unusual options were often brought and accepted, so long as they required no more care or attention than the three choices offered.

While he wanted just to finish his business with the Wainwrights, Eric was burning with curiosity. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened at the wand shop?"

Naomi looked up from her cider. "My father taught me early on that if you don't control your fate, your fate will control you. It's upsetting enough that I'm a witch, and that I have no choice but to go to Hogwarts. Even if I ultimately want to live a normal life, I need to learn how to control magic simply to hide it from everyone else. All that being the case, I still intend to stay in control of what happens to me."

She paused for a sip, then continued. "I chose not to accept Mr. Ollivander's explanation, that I'd have to take whichever wand decided to work for me. Rather, I searched the shelves until something caught my attention. The case with this wand simply looked different than all the rest. Maybe the wand still chose me, maybe we found each other. The point is, I participated – rather than letting things happen to me."

Eric had to admire Naomi's determination. His own life was a cascade of one incident after another. He couldn't complain about how they turned out, but now he had to wonder what it would've been like if he did make more choices, rather than just reacting to events.

Naomi looked up at Eric once again. "I wish to ask you for a favor."

Again, Eric found himself facing that same expression; the request was polite, but the face held something he couldn't describe that compelled him. "What do you want?"

"Consider the circumstances in which the Sorting Hat has failed in it's judgment, and determine a means to influence it."

"Huh?"

Naomi had clearly been musing about this riddle all afternoon. "The Sorting Hat has made mistakes in the past; therefore, it is not foolproof. So, by definition, it can be fooled. I wish to know the circumstances, which will show the way that it can be influenced. I need to know this before the Sorting ceremony."

Eric didn't know what to think. On the one hand, this smacked of treachery against the Hogwarts establishment. On the other hand, well, it was an opportunity to one-up the school instructors. The ability to direct which house a student ended up in would be extremely valuable, even if only a matter of interest. "I'll think about it."

Roger Wainwright arrived around that time, ending the conversation. Greetings and fees were exchanged, and Naomi prepared to leave with her parents. As he watched them go, Eric had the uneasy feeling that knowing Naomi was going to severely complicate his life.


	3. Chapter 3

The Hogwarts Express started off for Hogsmeade with a jolt. Eric settled into an empty compartment he'd claimed for the day-long ride. Other students passed by the bay, looking for friends to catch up with. Several Ravenclaw students waved hello, but otherwise moved onward. Although slightly put off that he didn't have any real friends to talk to, for now it was enough that they did remember him and were polite enough. Maybe this year he'd find some people to talk with.

Dorian Moon did stop by to talk for a little while. He wanted to know whether or not Eric's thought he should try out for the house team this year. He was a good flier, but Eric confessed that he wasn't sure – not being a quidditch player, he really couldn't say. He stayed on to talk for a while, but Eric could tell that he really wanted to leave without being impolite. Not wishing to be a burden, he suggested that Dorian check the cars up the train to see if Neville Longbottom had lost his toad again. Smiling, Dorian excused himself, promising to check back later. Eric didn't mind – while he wanted very much to make friends, an extended train ride was probably too much, too soon. He preferred to take things in steps.

As the train rounded out of London, the compartment door slid open. Looking up, Eric didn't see anyone until Naomi cleared the partition wall, a hooded cloak lending her the same noble bearing her father always seemed to keep with him. She stepped inside and examined the remaining empty couch, while Eric was left to wonder if she already knew a spell to move the door, if the door was simply loose, or perhaps something more sinister was at work. None of this, however, diminished the simple fact that she apparently decided to share the compartment with him, ending the possibility that this was going to be a solitary ride, for better or for worse.

Once on the couch, she postured herself with almost unnatural propriety, folded her hands on her lap, then closed her eyes. In a few minutes, Eric couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep, but he knew she wasn't in the mood for conversation, which in a strange way was better than either previous alternative – he was no longer alone in the strictest sense, but he didn't feel any need to have to come up with hours of idle chatter. Eric found this all very comfortable, and settled back into pre-reading his textbooks for the coming term.

It would have been preferrable this way, if their peace and quiet wasn't disturbed by a third visitor. "Excuse me. I just need a quiet place to sit." A phantasm of knick-nacks and oddities stood in the entrance. Eric recognized her from Diagon Alley – Luna Lovegood. She was an entertaining, possibly even sociable person except for the small detail that she appeared slightly, well, unbalanced. She had the most dreadful tendency to bring up wild speculations from her father's magazine as if they were the absolute truth. Other endearing habits included discussing non-sequiturs until everyone around her was lost, and performing some of the wildest stunts with the appearance of being perfectly serious.

Eric thought briefly of turning her away for Naomi's sake, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Something about the girl was as charming as a lost kitten, and had the same binding quality. No matter how annoying she could get, to do anything that would hurt her in any way would be the action of someone without a heart. Eric gestured her to sit down, but indicated that she was to be quiet. After all, as far as either of them could tell, Naomi was sleeping. Thankfully, she sank right into her magazine, smiling briefly but otherwise keeping to herself.

A third of the way into the trip, Fred and George Weasley stopped by. It seems that they didn't know the whereabouts of their brother Ron and Harry Potter, and were concerned that somehow they missed the train. Eric had to admit that he hadn't seen either of them, but he wouldn't worry: even if they were left behind, they were second-year students who didn't need to be sorted. Something could be worked out that would get them to the school before classes started.

Eric had to shush the lady with the trolley cart, not wishing to disturb Naomi or start Luna on any kind of conversation. Once the trolley went further, he pulled out a small case. The inside was sealed and lined, padded with leather at the joints to keep the case airtight. It was Eric's own design, and he was rather proud of how well it turned out.

A small cylinder of ice in a stoppered glass tube to keep the inside cold. Surrounding it was a reasonable selection of meats, cheeses, chopped vegetables and a small bottle of juice that Mrs. Peal prepared for the trip. Eric had tried to open it and prepare his lunch as quietly as possible, sharing the contents with Luna while trying to avoid any clatter, but to no avail. Either the sound of shifting items or the smell of lunch had aroused his meditating companion.

"You brought a lunch? Why didn't you just take something off of the trolley?"

Eric smiled slightly. "Trolley items tend to be more along the lines of wizardly confections. There isn't much anything of substance that I would call a lunch."

"I see." She turned back into her pose and settled in for the trip again.

Eric suddenly felt extremely awkward. She was clearly aware of her surroundings, even if she didn't seem to be paying attention. "Um, Naomi? It's a bit into the afternoon. As long as Luna and I are eating, would you like some?"

She looked into the case. "Perhaps a little; thank you." Her manner never changed, and her eating habits held as much nobility as anything else she did. However, Eric did note with some satisfaction that she ate as much as anyone. As Eric began to clean up, she looked up at him again. "So, have you thought about my question?"

Eric became incredibly uncomfortable. This wasn't something he wanted to answer in front of Luna. To his regret, he looked over to find that she had stopped reading her magazine and had become incredibly interested in the conversation. Secrets, it seemed, were very much an interest of hers.

He finished packing the materials and sat across from Naomi. "It's not really clear what happens, so I can't promise anything about what you may or may not be able to do. However, the best I can guess is that the hat picks up on what you want to accomplish at Hogwarts. Those who wish to learn in order to serve others end up in Hufflepuff. Those who are in it for personal glory, fame, or gain end up in Slytherin. So if you have a house in mind, concentrate on those goals which can be best served by that house's reputation."

She looked back to the wall across from her. "Thank you." She then closed her eyes and returned to her pose.

As Eric shrugged and tucked the case away, Luna turned to him, speaking very softly. "What do you think she has in mind?"Luna's eyes were snapping back and forth, trying to watch Eric while never looking away from Naomi.

"Whatever she's planning, I'm sure it won't hurt anyone." He decided to make room for her on his side, which granted her a little more space away from Naomi. She clearly decided that whatever was going to happen was contagious, for she curled up into a little ball, holding her magazine as a shield.

It was another two hours before the porter announced that they were arriving at Hogwarts. Eric excused himself while Naomi and Luna changed into their robes, then gratefully accepted the same courtesy from them.


	4. Chapter 4

While Naomi was lead off to the boats, Eric followed the rest of the upper-class students to the carriages that led to Hogwarts. As he moved forward, he found that he had gained an attachment. Luna was fastened to his arm, refusing to let go. "There are monsters!"

"Um, Luna – you're supposed to go to the boats." He briefly tried to remove her, but found that it would be quite impossible without someone becoming injured. Eric looked towards the carriages, but didn't see any monsters. True, he didn't see anything pulling them at all, even though the harnesses hung in the air as if they were filled. He decided, however, that if a thousand years worth of students made it up the hill alive, they stood a good chance. "Ok; just go in the carriage and sit down. I'm sure everything will be fine."

There was still no sign of Ron or Harry, but Neville Longbottom had joined his carriage along with Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst. Eric felt they had both been quietly suspicious of him all last year, being moved from Slytherin to Ravenclaw. It seemed, however, that since he had managed to keep Neville's trust throughout the year, they felt he may be alright. Dorian Moon also found his way to the carriage, planting himself across from Mandy.

"So, Eric, I heard you spent the summer at Diagon Alley. How was it?" Neville looked like someone desperate to hear about a summer break more interesting than his own.

"Well, I had to find something to do over the break. There aren't as many cast-off items I could pick up after the first year, and I have to pay for school someday, just like everyone else."

Terry was the next to speak. "They say you made the shelves and table for Gilderoy Lockhart's signing. What was he like?"

"I never met him. The order was put in by the bookstore's owner. He's paying the storage rent for my shop until the year ends."

Mandy was suddenly excided. "Speaking of Gilderoy Lockhart, did you hear the news? He's now the Dark Arts teacher!"

Eric hadn't heard the news. He was too busy getting ready for himself and Naomi to pay attention to the school's staff changes. The thought of Lockhart being the dark arts teacher gave him a bit of a shudder, since there would now be two famous names at Hogwarts to try to learn around, one of which would be impossible to avoid.

He scolded himself for the thought. He hadn't met Gilderoy Lockhart, and he hadn't taken a full perusal of the textbooks he'd purchased. While fame was no reason to instantly glorify a person, it was also no reason to dislike someone, either. He was being unfair and he knew it. After all, anyone who had written as much about dealing with the dark arts as he did surely had something worthwhile to teach a second year student. With luck, there might even be something new for him.

Dorian finally broached the subject Eric was hoping they'd all avoid. "So Eric, who's your new best friend?"

Luna turned to Dorian. "Eric's much nicer than you. He doesn't _stare!_"

Eric noted that Dorian was turning extremely pink. "Um, I didn't mean you, Luna. We all know who you are. I was talking about the other girl you rode up with."

Eric looked up. "Oh, her! I wouldn't say that she's my _best_ friend. Her name is Naomi Wainwright."

Terry started scolding him. "You sound like you don't even know her. Didn't you buy up her supplies and show her around?"

"Yes, because Dumbledore asked me to. She's from a muggle family, and they're just getting used to the idea of having a witch in the family. The headmaster was trying to make it easier for them."

Mandy's eyes sparkled like a fake diamond. "I heard she terrorized the whole Slytherin quidditch team without so much as batting an eye. I bet that would've been a sight!"

Eric shivered at the memory. "It was."

Upon exiting the carriages, Eric and his friends wound their way through the school to take their places with the rest of his class in the main hall, setting himself at the end of the upper-class students to better examine the first years. Professor Dumbledore's introduction was it's usual momentary seizure of madness before entering more sensible realms. He formally introduced Professor Lockhart to the staff and students; with Gilderoy beaming his ever-famous smile. He then called for the Sorting Hat to get things underway.

The first one up was a bright eyed boy named Colin Creevey. Although he looked rather nervous, he took to being a Gryffindor right off. Each house received it's usual spate of students before there were just two girls left – a worried redhead who's manner and dress practically screamed 'Weasley', and a statue who's very presence probably made the girl feel that much worse: "Wainwright, Naomi!"

She stepped forward and sat before the hall as deliberately and measured as anything he had ever seen her do. Curious to what was going on, Eric strained to hear the hat's mumblings. "Let me see, there's… no, perhaps… no again. Strange. Well, I guess you should be in: RAVENCLAW!"

She brought herself back up with equal dignity, taking a direct path to the table, stopping at the bench across from Eric. Her glaring stare resulted in an uncomfortable shift by all the first years and space being made for her. The last girl was indeed a Weasley, who appeared most pleased to find herself joining the rest of her family in Gryffindor. There must be something about that family that resulted in adventurous students. Eric wouldn't have minded finding out what it was.

Suddenly remembering, he looked across the table; there was something else he wanted to know. "So, did it work?" Naomi simply looked up at Eric without comment – though he thought, just for a moment, that he saw her smile.

As the evening grew later and dinner was finished, the houses accepted dismissal to their dormatories. Eric caught up with Dorian and Luna, comparing schedules for the upcoming year. As it was only their second year, most of the classes were still in the basic stages.

Dorian was mortified. "Another year of Transfigurations. I'll never get through it."

Eric tried to boost his spirits. "It's not so bad. At least McGonagall's fair."

"You're one to talk. You never even paid attention and you still passed."

Luna made three quick steps then turned, bobbing in front of the two of them as she back-stepped through the hall. "Eric wasn't paying attention because he's too smart. He was working on his _own _projects."

Eric could feel the hairs on his neck rise as Dorian turned to stare at him. "Is that true?"

He turned to his newest friend. "When you spend eleven years in this school, you pick up some things. Transfigurations came easy to me, so McGonagall gave me some other work to do."

Luna continued to back-step through the halls, watching the conversation while somehow being able to navigate turns and stairs. "It's quite all right. Eric's going to teach us all sorts of things this year."

The boys looked at each other; each had an eyebrow cocked at the other, almost as a mirror. Looking back at Luna, they found her bobbing along, a rather rediculous smile plastered across her face. As they arrived at the Ravenclaw dorm, Dorian turned back to Eric. "Well, the messenger aside, I could use some help."

Finding things being put into perspective, Eric smiled in relief. "No problem."

After speaking the evening's password ( 'azoth' ), the trio filed into the common room. Penelope Clearwater was finishing a lecture on general rules and guidelines. After this, the house held an informal welcoming, complete with tea and biscuits. The new students were encouraged to introduce themselves to the older members of the house, with the hope of breaking down any class barriers so that students looking for assistance with studies could find a good mentor.

As the gathering was drew to a close, the students began filing out to the dormitories. Eric finished his tea and turned to the stairs, only to trip over someone standing right next to him. "Eah!… um, hello." Eric had found himself facing Naomi once again.

She appeared as unaffected by his startled greeting as anything else. "I wanted to thank you for a pleasant ride here. Yours was the third compartment that I tried. Everyone else couldn't help but try to make idle chatter, and I'm really no good at that."

This was the first time Eric had heard her make any admissions of any kind. "Well, no trouble, but if you don't mind my asking, what were you doing?"

"To pass the time on long trips, I think about things. It's reasonably relaxing, and I tend to come up with some interesting ideas along the way; at least, I think they're interesting. However, if people start asking me questions, I end up replying with answers that I already know over and over, and nothing new or interesting gets discussed. It gets long and boring, so I usually end up impatient with the people I'm with."

"At least you admit it. I take it things didn't go well?"

"Half the train thought I was a sure fit in Slytherin. I think I surprised them all." For the second time, Eric thought that he saw Naomi smile; but it was only a moment, and it was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure that he saw it at all.


	5. Chapter 5

The year began with a bit more of a flurry than most. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had managed to make news for the gossipers again, this time by flying a car from London to Hogwarts, rather than taking the train. Eric couldn't help but be disappointed in Ron. Harry had a tendency to blunder into things, but Ron always seemed to be a little more level-headed, and he was Arthur Weasley's son. Really, he should have known better. Still, a part of him knew that he was just being jealous because he didn't think of it first.

The first classes of the year were their usual review, until they got to the Dark Arts. Rather than starting on second-year material, their new professor seemed to be determined to find out how well his students knew about him, rather than his subject. Still, he did send out a swarm of Cornish Pixies, only to demonstrate that he didn't know the exact spell for collecting the little blights. Unfortunately for every secret in Hogwarts, Eric did.

As a result, Eric was back in his old basement room, surrounded by his old laboratory, with a blue pixie held firmly in his grip. He couldn't be more amazed when he opened the secret door, for his room was exactly as he left it, and there wasn't any sign that it had been abandoned, or that it had been used in any way since he last left it. He wasn't alone for long, however, as the movement in the old lab came to the attention of his faithful attendant Willy. The house-elf was overjoyed to finally see his charge, though more than a little upset that he seemed to be up to mischief again.

Eric tried his best to reassure his old ally. "I may have a need for him, for one task or another. I do need your help, though. I need to know the best place in the area where a Cornish Pixie can be safely released. In the meantime, I need this fellow cared for and kept in good health."

Willy seemed more than happy to be of use again. "Oh, master Eric, Willy will do his best. Just promise Willy that Eric won't get into any more trouble!"

"That's the idea, Willy. Now: we'll need a cage that can hold him." Eric barely completed the thought before Willy waved his hand towards a bundle of old sticks, which instantly re-arranged themselves into a tightly bound cage. The pixie protested the incarceration, but couldn't complain about the surroundings.

"Don't you worry, master Eric, Willy will make sure that he's fed and cared for. Does Eric wish to know if he turns sickly?"

"Yes, Willy. If he does, we may need to release him early. I don't want any harm to come to him at all." Looking back at the pixie, he could tell that the little blighter knew what he was saying. "Ok, pixie, when I talk to you, I'm calling you Blue. Do you understand?" The bulbous-eyed face grinned and nodded in agreement.

"Now, I've taken you from the classroom because I expect to need your abilities. I promise that you'll be well cared for, and that I'll release you as soon as you perform one deed for me. I also promise that if you double-cross me, you'll be sorry. Do you understand?" Again, the pixie nodded.

"Well, that's it, Willy. We have a pixie good for one special task. I'll have to be sure that it's a good one. Take good care of him, and I'll be seeing you around." Eric noted Willy's wishful expression as he got ready to leave. "You know, any time I'm just studying alone, you're welcome to say hello."

"Oh, master Eric, you're just too good to Willy!" The elf's immense eyes welled up with tears. Eric knew that he was probably opening himself up for an inconvenience, but Willy had been a faithful servant for as long as he could remember, and his personal caretaker before that. Eric owed him more than he could properly repay, so he'd have to make due with civility.


	6. Chapter 6

At the start of the year, Eric was determined to develop into a model student. However, Professor Lockhart's inexplicable failure with the pixies had given him a new puzzle. Eric was determined to learn more about the ever popular Gilderoy Lockhart, and to determine how someone who knew so much about dealing with the darkest of forces could apparently be so inept.

He started by simply questioning other Ravenclaws. The results he gained were predictable. The boys all found him to be apparently inept, while the girls simply were sure that he was having a string of bad luck. All the girls, that is, except Naomi, who gave the most telling response of all. "I've read his books. He's far too happy for someone who's encountered as much darkness as he claims."

Luna was also unconvinced. "If he has accomplished so much, why hasn't he turned his attention to the flaming veramiths infesting Sussex?"

Setting these compelling arguments aside, Eric still decided that he had enough reason to discover what he could about Gilderoy Lockhart. Unfortunately, his resources were fairly limited, and being a student, he couldn't expend as much time as he would've liked to in investigation. This left him with no other choice than a little rule-breaking. Whatever Gilderoy's secrets were, if they were damaging he'd keep them with him rather than leaving them somewhere that a stranger could find them. Most likely, a journal in his office could shed some light on the subject, maybe indicate the research he's doing on his next novel.

However, when he chose to make his move, he found that Gilderoy was working overtime signing his fan mail, with Harry Potter seized as a galley slave. He supposed that this was probably light punishment for what he did, but after a few minutes Eric couldn't help but feel sorry for Harry as Gilderoy droned on and on about his various accomplishments and the complexities of being famous. Deciding that this couldn't go on forever, Eric took up as comfortable a settling in an air duct that he could and sought to wait it out. The minutes, however, stretched into hours, and Eric started doze off.

Facing downward, he knew he wouldn't snore, or at least not very loudly, so he let himself catch some rest while he could. He decided to try what Naomi was talking about, just thinking and seeing what would happen. Before long, he was starting to have ideas about better carving patterns, new materials to try on wands, and one or two transformations that were actually useful.

He was so wrapped up in these new ideas that he was startled to find himself in a dark hall with no doors; just a long corridor going onward into inky blackness. He started to walk down the corridor when he began to make out a shape – nothing distinct, but dark and moving. That would be frightening enough, but, it was also speaking to him. _"Come … come to me … let me rip you … let me tear you … let me kill you …"_

Eric was roused from the dream by a something, and immediately tried to reclaim his bearings. Looking back into the room, he saw that Harry and Gilderoy were still signing, though Harry was distracted by something. "No. That voice!"

Gilderoy looked puzzled. "Sorry? What voice?" Eric clamped his hand over his mouth. Was he talking in his sleep? Apparently Harry heard him, but Gilderoy missed it. Not surprising, since Gilderoy seemed to miss every detail of the world around him that didn't spew from his own mouth.

Harry was still puzzled. "That – that voice that said – didn't you hear it?"

Lockhart dismissed Harry's protests as dozing off, noting that it was nearly midnight. Cursing his luck, Eric stealthily made his way away from Lockhart's office and back to the Ravenclaw dormitory. He didn't learn quite what he wanted to, but he did learn that Professor Lockhart was an incredible bore who could drone on for hours, and be excited about it. This didn't bode well for him as a teacher, or as someone of true accomplishment.

Eric continued his thoughts as he settled into bed. So, if he wasn't a truly accomplished wizard, what was he? How could Eric find out without taking excessive risks, and what happened this evening? The voice in his dream – what if it wasn't part of the dream? Harry had seemed to hear it too.

What if it was real?


	7. Chapter 7

It was some time before Eric got the nerve to attempt to raid Professor Lockhart's office again. However, Halloween seemed ideal, since all the professors and students would be in the main hall enjoying the festivities.

Gilderoy's locked door was quick enough work. Apparently he didn't know how to secure his office any better than he knew how to stop pixies. Eric waited in the dark room until his eyes adjusted to the dim light the window provided, then he looked about. Figuring that what he needed wouldn't be on the bookshelves, he examined the desk, it's drawers, and the cabinet behind it. Most of them were full of publicity photos and letters praising his work. The only thing on his desk that was the least bit interesting was his ledger, which indicated a fairly substantial portfolio. Not only was he famous, Gilderoy Lockhart was filthy rich, though this was hardly surprising for the best published wizard in the world.

Eric was about to call the effort a waste when he noted a small cedar chest in the corner of the room. Unlike the office, this lock didn't yield to Eric's gentle persuasions. It was time for another option. Reaching into his cloak, he pulled out a small netted bag in which, sleeping at the moment, was the pixie. "Hey, Blue, wake up!" The small figure blinked his eyes and smiled up at Eric. "It's the moment you've waited for. Open this trunk, and I'll let you go."

The little figure stared at the lock for a moment before pointing at it. A jet of blue sparks sprung from his finger into the keyhole, and the clasp slapped open. True to his word, Eric moved to the window and opened the shudders slightly. Moonlight glistened on the lake, bathing the evening in a pearl haze. "Do you see that outcropping of trees? Willy tells me there's a pixie colony there. It's the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where nobody goes into without expecting trouble. If you go there, you'll be free and safe with others like yourself. Good luck." Beaming a smile to his little friend, Eric patted him out the window and on his way.

Closing the window and turning back to the cedar chest, Eric examined the contents. The chest seemed to be filled with memorabilia from a variety of sources. Letters, invitations, and souvenirs cluttered the box. His examination of these items found nothing unusual, but there was one item, a blue book, who's purpose was unknown, but promised inspiration.

It was a simple notebook, unenchanted an unremarkable in every way except it's fine appearance. However, there weren't any real notes in it. Rather, the pages held names, columns and columns of names. The page headers were only slightly more helpful: _Dublin, Belfast, Aberdeen, Glasgow, Cornwall, Paris, Belgrade, Bucharest, Strasbourg, Bhutan, Katmandu. _ Further pages were without names, but were titled _Stockholm, Helsinki, Oslo, _and _Norvik_. Eric wasn't sure, but based on the Norse sounding names, it looked like Gilderoy's next book was going to be on giants.

Well, it was no secret that Professor Lockhart was well traveled. However, the names were most likely witches and wizards he met along the way. Perhaps they would be willing to provide some insight to Gilderoy Lockhart's doings. Eric found some plain paper and ink, copying down the names as legibly as he could.

Putting everything away in the chest as closely to what he found as he could remember, Eric closed the lock, gave a sigh of gratitude that the pixie's magic didn't foul the mechanism, and turned to leave. That's when he heard it again. _"… rip … tear … kill …"_ It was back – the voice he had heard before, and it was no dream.

"… _soo hungry … for so long …" _The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. He couldn't find a source, but he was sure of one thing – it was inside the school. Whatever was speaking could come from around any corner or darkened hallway and he wouldn't be able to avoid it for certain. Even the back corridors he had relied on for so long had to be considered suspect.

" … _kill … time to kill …"_ He couldn't escape through any of the doors. The only chance he had was to get out through the window. Eric frantically shoved the pane upwards, resulting in a small gash in his hand. The pain was hardly a barrier, as fear of whatever was speaking was far more motivating.

" … _I smell blood … I SMELL BLOOD!" _Eric frantically shut the window from the outside and moved along the ledge away from the window. He was sure that the thing was ready to burst through the wall, devouring him with a single snap of savage jaws, or perhaps rip him apart with six-inch talons. No thought that he had was a pleasant one, and now he was trapped on an outside ledge with no way back into the building.

He couldn't say how long he had stood in the cold autumn wind, but after what seemed an eternity, there was no sign of any death-dealing monster. Taking stock of his situation, he found that he had accidentally put himself in grave danger. There wasn't much ground in front of the school from this angle. A steep cliff swept down to the lake from here. He might be able to climb down, but he also might fall to his death. However, a safer plan was available.

Eric drew out a small whistle and blew on it. Within seconds he was joined by Midget and Widget, his two burrow owls. His trusted assistants were not slow to show what concern they could for his predicament, and were most enthusiastic to assist. "Find Fred and George Weasley. Lead them back here." That was all that they needed, and they were off like a shot.

Eric settled in against the ledge. It was wide enough for him to sit comfortably, and if his two messengers failed to bring the only help Eric could trust for whatever reason, it would be best to face the coming challenge well rested. Looking about, he saw three figures in an opposing hallway staring at something by the window. Eric desperately hoped they didn't see him.

The sound of the finished feast resonated through the school. The confusion that typically followed the Halloween feast meant that he'd be able to slip back into the crowd if Fred and George didn't take too long. The group, however, didn't break to the dorms as was usual. Rather, the students crowded into the hall and began staring at the window. Eric's spirits sank; he knew he'd been caught.

No one opened any windows, or called out to him, even to jeer at him. Rather, several of the teachers arrived and appeared to be having a heated discussion dealing with something between the windows. Eric strained as best he could, but could not make out any voices. It was some time before he heard anything discernable.

"Eric – up here!" Looking above him, his mood brightened considerably upon seeing the faces of the Weasley twins. "I see you're in a bit of a fix. Just sit tight, and we'll get you down." Eric could tell that they were in deep discussion over how to smuggle a rope into Professor McGonagall's office so that it could be lowered down. Other plans seemed to involve owls and parapets, or a levitation spell that George was reasonably sure would work on a person. As time passed, Eric's plight seemed to be taking a downward turn, until a shadow passed and blocked the moon.

"Good evening. Would you like some help?" Naomi was floating in front of him, riding one of the school's practice brooms. A hooded cloak obscured her features, but her voice was unmistakable.

"How did you know I was here?"

It was impossible to see her expression, but her tone seemed to be one of distinct disapproval. "You were missing from the evening feast. Before everyone left, two owls flew in low and unobtrusively, landing in front of the Weasley twins. Their response of 'Eric must be in trouble', told me enough. Rather than following them, though, I looked out the window the owls came in through and saw you sitting here. Now, do you wish to remain up here, or can I offer you a ride down?"

Eric called back up to the window. "Um, guys? I've got a ride now." The twins were a bit surprised to see someone else dealing with the matter, but gave a friendly wave as he climbed upon the broom and rode it down to solid ground.

Looking over to his rescuer, Eric's gratitude was stifling. "Naomi? I didn't know you'd miss me at the feast, and I really appreciate the help. Thanks, and I'm sorry."

"You're welcome." Her hood was still facing away, so Eric couldn't tell how she looked, though he could imagine her impassive face drawing in everything she saw. "You should know, something's happened in the corridor outside the main hall. I don't know what it is, but everyone was gathering there."

"Yes, I could see it from where I was. Hopefully, it wasn't me."

It turned out that it wasn't. As Naomi and Eric returned to the Ravenclaw common room, they found out that Filtch's cat had been petrified, and that there was a warning regarding the Chamber of Secrets. One mystery had to be set aside, as another had taken it's place.


	8. Chapter 8

A few days of furor followed the incident – Mrs. Norris was petrified, Filtch was aggravating as he grieved, and the whole student body was buzzing with gossip about who or what could be behind the Chamber of Secrets. Even Ravenclaw was deeply entrenched in the madness, though dealing with it in traditional Ravenclaw fashion: research. A circle of upper-class students had formed an investigation team and had come up with the few facts. First; there was only one instance in the school's history that was attributed to the Chamber. Second; there was one fatality. Third; repeated searches throughout the school's thousand-year history failed to discover a location for the Chamber. Fourth; Slytherin students appeared annoyingly immune.

It was impossible to think that such a chamber could remain hidden for a thousand years, but maybe the faculty simply was working the wrong way. Eric decided that it was time to take a hand in the matter. He sent Widget with a message to the Weasley twins with a map to his basement room, and instructions to meet him there after supper. Midget was sent to Willy, with a request for cider and snacks.

That evening, as Eric tried to break away from the rest of the students, he found that he was being shadowed. "Trying a new method for getting into trouble?" Naomi was becoming a bigger nuisance than he anticipated.

"No. I'm just meeting a couple of friends."

"Would you mind if I came along?"

Eric hadn't noted a social nature in her before, but he couldn't come up with only one good excuse not to include her that wouldn't involve hurting her feelings ( assuming she had any ). "Sure, if you promise to keep what we're doing a secret."

Naomi surprised him again. "I promise. Now lead the way."

The room ended up a bit cramped when all the invitees entered, but they were too interested in why Eric would open his room for anyone to complain. "Ok, everyone believes that there's a Chamber of Secrets and despite a dozen searches over a thousand years, it's in the school somewhere."

"True enough" one of them chimed up. Eric gave up trying to figure out which was which ever since he noticed that they shared one wardrobe between them to save money.

"Well, I figure that any entrance to such a chamber would be cleverly hidden, so the only to find such a place would be to map out the entire castle and look for voids." Eric pulled out a number of wide parchments; floor plans for the entire school. "Here's the basic maps of all the classrooms. I've been working on this for years in an effort to have the whole school layout available. What I don't have is all the secret corridors."

The twins eyes lit up at the proposition. "You want us to add our maps to yours?"

"You got it. Together, I'm sure we could have every secret this castle has to offer bound into place in a week. We'll have to map every last item on the grounds, including the quidditch field and Hagrid's hut, but this should solve the riddle."

"It's a good plan and a noble cause, but if anyone finds out where this information came from, we'd be sunk! What's in it for us?"

Fortunately, Eric had that planned as well. "Before we turn anything in, you develop complete floor plans for yourselves, with every access point right down to Snape's office window. If we don't find anything, you've come out ahead with every last shred of information I've compiled over six years."

That was the carrot the twins needed. "All right then, but it'll take longer that you've given it if we're going to be discreet. We've got quite a bit to bring to the table."

The Weasleys were right about one thing – there was a lot of material to cover. Eric worked through their maps, trying to verify paths and establish scales for several days before Naomi came in to pull him away from the work. "Today's game is Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, and I want to see my cousin play."

Eric had to admit that it would be nice to see Katie Bell and the Gryffindor team play again. They were the ones to come to his aid when Slytherin cast him from their house last year. Katie was especially nice, taking charge to make sure that he ended up in the hospital wing while his broken possessions were collected. The maps could wait – he needed a diversion.

The game, however, did not go as Eric would've predicted. Yes, Slytherin had better brooms, but he had seen Oliver Wood's strategies before. Gryffindor had a more dedicated team and better tactics, while the Slytherin players were still missing passes due to their exceedingly fast brooms. However, half the Gryffindor team seemed tied up with a bludger, which left Katie and the other chasers to fend for themselves against the entire Slytherin team. With only one bludger to contend with, the Slytherin beaters started defending the goals, making it impossible for Gryffindor to score. On the offensive, they would guide bludgers to act as additional blocking to clear the way for their Chasers. This was looking to be a truly lopsided game.

Katie played the best game a chaser could hope for, with four interceptions to her credit. This didn't keep her from trouble, though, for before long she had a Slytherin chaser and a beater driving her from both directions. It didn't matter that she could catch the quaffle; she couldn't score or pass it to Alicia or Angelina with any success.

However, Oliver called a time-out and their tactics changed, lending Fred and George back to the rest of the team and leaving Harry to fend for himself. This evened out the game and showed that the Gryffindors could match the Slytherins move for move, but this turned the game into a passing match, with the quaffle unable to reach either goal with any success. Finally, despite a hit from the bludger that left him with a fractured arm, Harry managed to grab the Snitch which gave Gryffindor the game.

Harry became the unwilling recipient of Gilderoy Lockhart's clever ministrations, which resulted in a boneless arm as a replacement for his fractured one. Katie, meanwhile, had broken away from the team to see her cousin. "Hi Naomi! Sorry that you didn't see us at our best. Hello Eric – I heard you're blending in well with the Ravenclaws. Good for you!"

"You did well up there, cousin. I was impressed." Although her tone was as indifferent as ever, Katie beamed a smile as big as she could from the praise. "Don't you think she did well?"

"Yeah, I mean, with the bogus bludger, you had half your team tied up while Slytherin had twice as many active players. The fact that you won after all that is a real credit to your defense."

"Don't forget Harry's bravery. He chose to face that bludger alone. I just hope Madame Pomfrey can help him now. I'm afraid Professor Lockhart hasn't exactly improved matters."

Now there's a big surprise, Eric thought.

Eric returned to his room that evening, to continue on the maps. Willy brought in some supper to keep him going, and he was becoming more and more satisfied with his progress. Yet, as the evening progressed, the lines and spaces got harder and harder to work with, and Eric found himself sitting back and rubbing his eyes more and more. There was a corridor marked on the Weasley map that he couldn't scale, There might be just the one corridor, or there could be room for a second, if the path on the map was skewed to one side or another.

Eric decided to go to the corridor and inspect it. Moving through the vast halls would be tricky, but if he was careful, he should be able to avoid the faculty. Carefully he left his basement room and slowly passed through the winding corridors to the main hall, then passing through to the entryway staircase. It was strange, but the lighting seemed to be getting worse and worse, while the corridors began losing their detail. The corridors began getting longer and longer, the entryways slowly changing from doors to archways, to ancient porticulli. Shadows flew up and down the walls, while the roof was a swirling fog, from which a menacing voice emanated.

"_So dark … so quiet … so hungry … so long …" _ The voice was coming from the ceiling. Shadows were coming together, a black mass with tendrils and teeth, the floor was suddenly covered in blood, and every wall were stained the same words over and over: 'The Chamber of Secrets Is Open – Enemies Of The Heir Beware!"

"_Let me find you … let me tear you … let me rip you … LET ME KILL YOU!"_

"ERIC!"

"Gaahhh!" The corridor, the blood, the black shape, it was all gone. Eric found himself standing in an alcove at the base of the main staircase. The shout came from Luna, who was standing in front of him shaking his arms.

"There. Are you alright?" She seemed to be checking not just him, but the area around him. He wondered if she thought that there was some kind of bogeyman in his hair driving him about like a stagecoach.

"I think so. Where am I?" In truth, he knew where he was. What he didn't know was how he got there.

A sullen voice came out from the shadows. "You're beneath the main staircase, and I think you were sleepwalking."

"What?" Eric fought the urge to deny it out of hand. He never was in the habit before now, but he couldn't explain where he was or why. What was more unsettling was that he was denying this to a disembodied voice residing in the main staircase.

"Sleepwalking – an unconscious state in which a person moves their body, but is not truly aware of their surroundings." Naomi shuffled out of the shadows, seeming to appear from pure darkness. Eric was sure that she meant to do this in order to embelish her already wraith-like reputation. "I've been following you for five minutes. You seemed to be searching for something. I woke you up because you were apparently having a nightmare."

Eric tried to remember. "It was the voice. The same voice I heard in Lockhart's office. I heard it again."

"Obviously you've been searching for that chamber too long. It was a nightmare, nothing more." There was something, though, in her voice that made her seem less than certain. "Anyway, we need to get you to the Ravenclaw dorms."

"Sure, just one second. I meant to be here." Looking about, Eric found the passage he was studying on the Weasley maps. Unfortunately, it did cut through the middle. There was no room on either side for another passage, which made this inquiry a dead end. "Ok, let's go."

The three of them made their way towards the Ravenclaw tower. They were within sight of the doorway when they were stopped by Willy. "Oh, sir! I am so happy to find you. Master Eric, someone must know. They must be told!"

Eric sighed. Willy always was a bit melodramatic. "Calm down, Willy. They must know what?"

"There's another: a stranger among us. Master, there is a rogue house-elf in Hogwarts!"

Eric took that in for a moment, for this was serious. A strange house-elf was bad enough, but for Willy to call him rogue, that meant that he used his powers to injure others – something that house elves generally didn't engage in without their master's orders. Either that, or he was acting outside of his master's wishes, or both. "What's his name?"

"Willy does not know – this one keeps to himself. However, he did send the bludger against Harry Potter, and I heard him speaking to young Harry. He was why Harry missed the train. He has been doing bad things to Harry Potter, yet he claims to be a friend."

This year was just getting weirder and weirder. "Ok, Willy: keep an eye on the newcomer, but don't cross him unless you have to. Try to find out more from the other elves – I'll try to learn what I can from here. Best you get back to the kitchen now."

Willy smiled with his new directives, and vanished into the mist. Turning back to the Ravenclaw entrance, Eric cleared his throat. "Archimedes' Basin", and the door swung open to let them both pass to their dorms.

It wasn't until the next morning that Eric learned that there was another attack. Colin Creevey was now in the hospital wing; petrified in the act of photographing his assailant, who's powers were apparently enough to burn the film.


	9. Chapter 9

Three days later, Eric was ready to surrender. The entire school was mapped out and every corridor was checked. There was no room in any of the castle walls for there to be a chamber of any size which could house a monster of any reasonable threat without suffocating it. Besides, there would have to be an access point, or some other kind of door. In the few locations that could be considered the least bit suspicious, there was no way in or out.

He wrote a letter to Fred and George, explaining that while he couldn't find the chamber, a deal was a deal. The maps would be available for them to take notes whenever they wished, and a hearty good luck to their mischief. Eric made good use of the research himself, figuring that one never knew when it would be useful, and at least the time wouldn't be a total waste.

As he returned to a more common schedule of classes and study, a posting for a new dueling club caught his eye. Perhaps he needed a diversion from his recent activities. Besides, few things were more amusing than seeing a room full of students fumbling about trying to knock each other over.

Amusement passed slightly into concern, however, when the afternoon came and Eric noted Naomi in with the crowd of students. Actually, there was a crowd in the room, with a small void of space wherever she went. Apparently, her social skills weren't improving, or she had begun to gather a bad reputation. Either way, Eric didn't feel right seeing her alone, and made his way to join her. Whether or not she noticed was uncertain.

Eric's prime reason for attending, however, was greatly re-enforced when the instructor for the club arrived. By this time, pretty much every student in Ravenclaw had figured out that Gilderoy Lockhart was the worst kind of fraud, and it was delightful to see that his reputation wouldn't be patched today. Although Professor Lockhart boasted his prowess up and down the hall, having the Dark Arts Defense teacher be flattened by the Potions master in a wand duel was, at the least, uninspiring. At the worst, it was demoralizing. Eric couldn't imagine how a room full of learners could possibly develop skills needed to defend themselves with an instructor who couldn't keep on his feet, though he was deviously waiting to watch them try.

Sure enough, having embarrassed himself before the gathered crowd, Gilderoy turned everyone's attention away from the sudden failure to their own efforts. Pairing off the students, they were all invited to disarm one another with spells. Eric's partner was a Hufflepuff named Ernie; full of earnest energy, but a little more portly than tall. Eric thought of being sporting, but something in him couldn't give up the chance to be just a little terrifying. The count from Lockhart came down. "… two, … one, … go!"

"Angreasia!" Eric found Ernie's speed quite impressive as his own wand suddenly took to sliding through his fingers, almost dropping to the floor. His embarrassment for being outdone was made worse by Ernie's smug laugh.

What Ernie didn't count for, however, was that all the handiwork he did made Eric ambidextrous. Although his wand slipped from it's pose, he caught it with his offhand and immediately countered. "Enlevirumrax!" Ernie's wand tore itself from his hand and shot to the ceiling, lost from sight in the ever-present illusion that blanketed the main hall. As Eric turned back to him with a glare of satisfaction, he could see Ernie turn white as a sheet.

Spinning his wand back to it's sheath, he looked about at the chaos that had erupted. Naomi's opponent, a Slytherin first-year, was plastered to the wall with something that resembled tar. Eric made his way through the chaos to her side; making a dramatic scene of looking at her, her ensnared opponent, back to her, down to the wand that was glued to the floor, then back to her again.

"He said to disarm her. It's safe to say that she's not holding her wand now."

Not knowing how else to respond, he offered her a dramatic bow and guided her away from her victim. He could disenchant her out of the tar later – maybe. For now, watching Professor Lockhart sort out the duelists was far more entertaining. More so was Ernie, who was looking forlornly at the ceiling, straining his eyes to find his wand. In a mixture of pity and mischief, Eric dismissed his spell, timing it carefully so that the wand would drop from the ceiling smoothly – striking Ernie square in the forehead with it's handle.

Naomi turned slightly to look up at him. "That was saintly of you." Eric blushed at Naomi's chiding, but as he looked down to her face, he couldn't tell from her expression if she disapproved or not.

The rest of the class was gathering back to the center of the hall. Professor Snape had called out Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter to demonstrate defense against hostile spells. Eric couldn't help thinking there was at least one student in the room wishing that Professor Lockhart would pick up on teaching things in the right order, not counting Ms. Stuckonthewall. However, the proud Professor kept Eric's amusements to it's heights by over dramatizing a simple shield cast, only to drop his wand.

Draco, however, was clearly not in the mood to join the jocularity, summoning a rather deadly blacksnake. Eric's first thoughts were to the spell itself. The conjuration of physical form, especially a live one, was extremely difficult and hazardous. Control of the newly created beast was practically impossible, and it's serpent-nature made it particularly deadly. Eric wondered exactly how much dark magic Draco knew, and how much he had been using recently.

As Professor Snape stepped forward, Eric actually felt a wave of relief that, no matter how unpleasant he might be, at least a competent wizard was taking the matter in hand. This was short-lived, however, as Gilderoy stepped up, unwilling to be upstaged. His efforts, however, exasperated the problem when his casting failed to dispel the snake, rather sending it sailing into the air and allowing it to land, fairly unharmed but rather perturbed for it's sudden travels.

But it was Harry Potter who calmed the matter. Facing off against the irritated serpent, Eric could clearly hear him commanding it. "_Leave him alone!_" Eric thought he was being rather melodramatic, what with the sibilant edge he was wheezing out. It seemed to impress the snake, though, who curled up in front of him, seeming to settle down briefly, allowing it's intended victim to flee while Snape dispelled the threat. Harry's friends dragged him out of the room, while everyone started to mutter – something about parseltongue, Harry, and Slytherin's Heir.

The more Eric picked up on, the more he became uncomfortably aware of the situation. Harry was a parselmouth; everyone thought this was clear evidence that he was Slytherin's Heir, and that he had opened the Chamber of Secrets. Eric was also disturbingly aware of the fact that he understood every word that Harry had said.


	10. Chapter 10

Eric barely ate his dinner, picking occasionally at the vegetables, and foregoing the exceptional roast. The afternoon's events left his appetite wanting. Luna seemed determined to keep his company. Dorian was also there, asking if he was feeling well. Naomi was watching from the other side of the table, flanked on either side by an emptiness that suggested that the other Ravenclaws just couldn't get used to her.

The fact was, having so many people around who wanted to do something for him was annoyingly welcome. It was one of those times when he felt the strong urge to hide somewhere, hoping desperately to be found.

All students were supposed to return to their dormitories after dinner, yet Eric remained in the hallways, periodically pacing back and forth in front of the gargoyle that defended the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He couldn't put into action what he wanted to do, because he couldn't find the right words to say. Until he had them, he doubted that talking to anyone would improve matters.

"If you're expecting it to jump into the hallway, I doubt it will comply." Naomi's sarcastic tone resonated through the hallway. "However, if it does, I'm willing to help you subdue it."

Eric stared blankly at her several seconds before breaking into an uncontrolled laugh. "If it really was a proper gargoyle, I doubt either of us would last very long."

"Very true, Master Sable. I am pleased that you are learning something of use in our school." Professor Dumbledore's soft voice was nevertheless extremely startling, as it came from an alcove which was previously empty, in which no one should have been able to get into without his noticing. "However, as you seem so intent on stalking my gatekeeper, I expect you have something on your mind." Without words or dramatic gestures, Dumbledore commanded the gargoyle aside, allowing the staircase to his office to unfold. Gesturing to them both, he led Eric and Naomi into his office.

The headmaster's portraits were asleep again. Eric wondered if they ever were awake at all. The outer chamber included a stand where Fawkes, the Professor's phoenix, perched limply, feathers dropping from him and turning to ash in the plate below. A small table commanded the outer room, a silver serving set with hot tea laid out properly upon it. "Miss Naomi, if you could serve yourself, young Eric and I need to have a little talk."

Eric followed the Professor into the back office, where he slowly passed around his desk and into a large padded chair. "In all the years you've been with us, you've never done anything without at least a small purpose. I expect a larger one directs your attention to my office."

"Professor, I don't exactly know how to begin." However, begin he did, and he went on for a quarter of an hour describing every event of notice since the year began; the voices, the map of the school ( though leaving out particular details about how he learned what he knew ), Gilderoy Lockhart's apparent ineptness, his dreams, and finally this afternoon's dueling class and the circumstances that ended it. "Worst of all, sir, he spoke to the snake, and I understood him."

Dumbledore appeared most interested. "Indeed – so, did he encourage the snake to attack?"

"No, sir, he pacified it; but everyone's said that he's a parselmouth. If I understood him, does that mean I'm a parselmouth too?"

Dumbledore rose slowly from his chair. "Yes, my boy, I do believe it does. However, being able to speak parseltongue is no different than any other ability. The fact that dark wizards fancy the skill and that it is more common in dark wizard families gives the talent an unfortunate reputation, but the talent is no more good or evil than any other."

The Headmaster moved to the archway that opened to the outer office. "Do you see that young lady? Born from non-magical parents, found in a place she never chose to be, she has nonetheless come to dominate her class with a combination of resolve and intimidation. These abilities would normally put her into Slytherin house, but there is something inside her that laid a different path before her." Eric winced at Dumbledore's words, remembering the hand he had to play in that. "Instead of a house where her abilities would be most directed towards personal gain, she's surrounded by other students who accept her standoffishness, even if they don't entirely welcome it. She's allowed to be herself, which I believe she pursues with her all, and is the best for all concerned."

Dumbledore patted Eric's shoulder as he stepped towards the arch. "You could learn a great deal from her. I'm glad we had this talk, for you have told me much that I needed to know. Now, let us join your friend in having some tea and cakes, and then I will walk you both back to your dormitory."


	11. Chapter 11

The next afternoon, Eric called together Dorian, Naomi, and Neville Longbottom. Leading them into the field between the school and the quidditch field, they found themselves facing a squad of wooden figures. Neville was the first to succumb to curiosity. "What's this?"

Eric turned to his friends. "Lockhart and the Headmaster have the right idea. We should learn how to cast spells in self defense. However, if we were to wait until we gleaned what we needed from the dueling club, we'll have graduated long before we gained anything useful. I know a couple of attack and defense spells: I thought I could teach them to you, and we could lead the club."

The gathered friends clearly liked the idea of being one up on everyone else, so Eric began showing them a simple disarmament spell. "It's a minimum of moves, with wand straight out at your target: _Yiegectum!_" A small stick in the hand of the far left figure flew back several yards. "It simply removes the wand from the bearer. Give it a go."

Since the move was so simple, Dorian and Naomi both mastered it instantly. Neville, however, didn't quite show as much proficiency, though far more potency. Upon casting his spell, the entire figure blew backwards more than sixty feet before breaking apart into firewood. He appeared mortified.

Eric, however, was determined to see the positive. "Well, you didn't disarm him, but it's fair to say that you broke his concentration." Dorian began to laugh, while Naomi pulled a hood over her head, obscuring whatever change in appearance her face was undergoing.

"But Eric, what if that was somebody? What if I was just trying to disarm someone and I did that to them instead?"

"Neville, spells work differently on people. It's complicated, but – they just do. It wouldn't have had that particular affect on a living person. Besides, that's the whole point of doing this: to help you learn what you need to be able to get the results you want from the spells you cast. They're just wooden targets - we're supposed to lose a few of them."

With as much reassurance as he could muster, Eric took Neville by the arm and set him in front of the next target. With Dorian over dramatizing a comedic terror and Naomi discreetly moving behind the two of them, he helped pose Neville's arm and checked his aim before easing away, standing well behind Neville and out of the line of fire.

"Now, with feeling – try it again."


	12. Chapter 12

Eric flipped through his copied maps over and over. Another student had been petrified, which means he was wrong; he simply had to be. Somewhere in this expanse of rooms was a chamber with a monster capable of drawing people to the brink of death – and perhaps worse if given the chance.

Dorian sat back and rubbed his eyes wearily. "We've been over these maps a dozen times."

Eric remained defiant. "Then we need to go over them again. There's something we're missing."

"You really should drop that for a while. Your finals won't pass themselves." Naomi had apparently elected herself as his caretaker.

Eric was so weary, he was left without subtlety. "Naomi, there isn't a class on my list that I can't pass through talent and experience."

"I wasn't worried about you. I was thinking about Dorian."

Eric looked across the table guiltily. "I'll get you through your finals, I promise. Right now, this is far more important. We can't even move about safely enough to study now. The school can't continue to function in this manner. If this keeps up, they'll close the school down for sure."

Naomi sat down, and began to look over Eric's work. "I never wanted to come here in the first place, but now that I am here, getting sent somewhere else would be worse. This place means more to you, I take it?"

Eric slumped back in his chair. "I was orphaned as a baby. I grew up in these halls. The instructors aren't just my teachers, they're like my family – one mass of dysfunctional aunts and uncles that I can't do without. I'd even miss Professor Snape if anything happened to him. I can't just sit here and let my world fall apart."

Eric couldn't say why, but something about Naomi softened. Maybe it was her pose, her expression, or just something in her eyes, he couldn't say. "You know, your problem isn't as big as the entire school. The Chamber of Secrets was built by Salazar Slytherin a thousand years ago. Since it apparently does exist, all we have to do is find what parts of the school still contain sections from the original structure."

Eric looked at his maps again, then almost dropped out of his chair in disbelief. "Dorian – that's just it!"

Although dozing off at the tediously reminiscent exchange between his two companions, Dorian shook it off to stare blearily at Eric. "What – what's just it?"

A fevered bewilderment began rushing through his limbs. "The only place that the chamber could exist is somewhere that is part of the original school structure. The thing is, Hogwarts has been an active school for a thousand years! There isn't an inch of any of the buildings that was part of the original structure anymore."

Eric swung behind him to draw out a pile of notes. "I was working from these earlier to confirm all the details on each passageway. They individually map out the modifications and restorations that have been implemented over the school's life. It's a huge litany of repairs and replacements. All in all, I would have to say that there isn't a single part of this school that hasn't been repaired or replaced at least a dozen times."

Dorian slumped sideways. "So if the whole school's been replaced, where's the chamber hidden?"

Eric looked over to Naomi, who seemed genuinely interested in his sudden burst of insight. "In the only part of the building that would never be mapped, charted, or replaced – regardless of the number of repairs – the foundation."

Naomi actually managed to appear impressed. "It makes sense, except for one detail. The chamber has been opened, and whatever is inside it has demonstrated that it has the run of the school. There has to be a means to access it, which would have been discovered by the remodeling."

Eric smiled. "Right, but it wouldn't be as obvious as the chamber itself, and therefore easier to hide. However, it would still be necessary for someone to be actively watching through all these years in order to keep the chamber secret. These records are the key."

Dorian looked up from a reclined, exhausted pose. "Huh?"

"Somewhere in these records will be a pattern of names, a contractor or some such, that would occur over and over when dealing with one given location. If we find that pattern, we'll find the trap door." Eric started to dig through his notes again, only to have Naomi stop him.

"You two have been at this enough. If you don't get some sleep, you'll never find what you're looking for anyway."

Resigned to his fate, Eric piled his papers into a bundle and made his way back to the boy's dorm. Naomi was right – he needed to approach the problem with a clear head and a fresh start. The bed was fairly inviting, and Eric was soon drifting off, letting his thoughts clear for a decent rest.

Penelope Clearwater shook him awake shortly after midnight. He was in the common room, his papers spread across the floor in neat piles. Swearing that he couldn't remember doing any of it, he made quick work of gathering it back up, though keeping the piles together. A feeling he couldn't make sense of told him that the piles were important.


	13. Chapter 13

Winter was beginning to melt into Spring, and after several weeks Eric felt no closer to an answer than he was when he started. He needed to learn more, but unfortunately, students weren't allowed to examine school records. It was time to do something he had neglected for some time. Eric needed to call on his foster uncle.

A rap on the door of Hagrid's small hut failed to bring the usual cheery voice. Rather, an abrupt "Who's there?" shot from within the cobblestone walls.

"It's just me, Hagrid."

The door opened wide. "Eric, lad! I haven' seen yeh in weeks, an' yeh haven' been by to talk proper all year." The cheery welcome put things far more at ease, and Eric made a point of going through an immense amount of small talk to bring Hagrid up to speed on all his schoolwork, his new friends, and most of what he had seen this year.

Hagrid shuffled in his seat slightly. "It's been a bad year, fer sure. Don' worry, though, Dumbledore will set it right."

Eric knew the time had come. "Hagrid, the last time the chamber was opened – were you here?"

Hagrid had been the only family he had known, and Eric had spent a great deal of time with him. Through all that time, he had never seen his guardian appear so nervous. "Well, um, yeh understand, that was a long time ago…" Hagrid paused, then heaved out a great sigh. "Yes, Eric, I was here."

"What happened?"

Hagrid related the tale, the details blending into one another. For Eric, it didn't really matter, for the story sounded much the same as the occurrences this year, with one difference. In Hagrid's day, a young girl was killed. "It all ended suddenly after that." Breaking from his narrative, he turned about to check a kettle.

Eric hated the feeling he had, but the thought needed pursuing. "Hagrid, are you telling me everything?"

Hagrid's hands stopped where they were. His great body arched back into his seat and he turned around again. "No, that's not everything. I didn't want yeh t' find out the truth, but if yeh keep nosing about, yeh'll hear things – things that'll make yeh believe what ain't so."

The rest of Hagrid's story was far more personal. He always had a fondness for all kinds of creatures. He had come across a pet spider that he raised from an egg. To his delight, it was a most unusual creature, growing to the size of an ottoman before long. Unfortunately, another student discovered his pet and blamed it for the attacks. Hagrid set it free, but because he protected it, he was blamed for all the attacks and expelled.

Eric made a note of all that he heard. "But it wasn't him, was it?"

"Aragog didn' come from no Chamber, so it couldn' be him. B'sides, he's too big to be attackin' the school these days." Clearly, retelling his story aggravated him considerably. He looked down intently at Eric. "Yeh do believe me, don' yeh?"

Eric had no doubts. "I believe you – really. Everything that's happened lately suggests the same thing. I just wish that what you've told me would get me closer to finding where the entrance to the chamber is."

"Eric, that chamber's nuthin' but trouble. Yeh listen to yer uncle an' get back to yer studies. Fergit about the chamber an' stay outta trouble!"


	14. Chapter 14

Eric stirred from his bed. Throwing on enough clothes to be decent, he slipped his way through the dorm and out of the common room. All the research had come together in a dream – he knew where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was!

Sneaking out of the Ravenclaw common room, he started off towards the Headmaster's office. He had to find Dumbledore; no, wait, Dumbledore had been suspended. McGonagall – she was the new Headmaster, so he turned about towards her office, stumbling through the darkened corridors. Through turn after turn, he felt that he was getting closer. Wait – it had to be midnight or later. She had to be in the teacher's dormitory!

He turned about again, the corridors getting darker and darker the further he ran. Before long, he was looking about for any of the staff. Mrs. Norris would find – wait, she was petrified. It would have to be Filtch, or maybe Peaves would find him an instructor. At the very least, he'd bring one for no other reason than to get him in trouble. Where was Peaves? A student couldn't possibly be out this long in the hallways without drawing his attention.

The corridors grew darker, the torch lights dimmer. Which way was it to the teacher's dormitory? The hallways no longer looked familiar. He tried to go back, but the turns weren't the same as before, and each way he went grew darker and darker. Then he heard it, far in the distance. _"Time to kill … time to rip … time to tear …"_

Eric bolted through the corridor, trying to flee the sound that seemed to come from everywhere. The darkness was almost complete. Only a dim haze helped to distinguish walls from the floor, and shadows; shadows everywhere, twisting – spinning – moving. One great shadow, greater than all the others, long and thick, a great tendril, serpentine with a maw the size of a horse,

and **_eyes…_**

Eric snapped upright in a hospital bed. He had a sour, stinging taste in his mouth, which he attributed to Professor Snape, for the potions master was hovering over him with smug satisfaction. "There. Now you know it works." Madam Pomfrey began distributing it among the various petrified residents.

Although awake and mobile, Eric found that he was horribly stiff, as if he hadn't moved at all for a month. "What's going on? Where am I?"

A quiet, even voice piped up beside him. "You're in the hospital wing. You've been petrified for several days now. You were the last victim of Slytherin's basilisk."

"A basilisk?" Eric could remember darkness, something large, and great yellow eyes – the memory alone was incapacitating.

"There there; don't think about it." Madam Pomfrey's consoling voice overflowed with reassurance. "The creature's gone, and the memory will fade in time if you let it. It's best not to dwell on it." Several more figures began to stir, including Mrs. Norris, who began an extended series of stretches. "That's it, my dear. You all should be trying to act likewise. You'll recover faster that way."

Eric began untwisting his limbs. "So, what did I miss?"

"We're unsure of all the details. The teachers are being unusually tight-lipped about it. I have noted this much, however; Gilderoy Lockhart has lost his mind, and Harry Potter was involved."

Harry Potter – the school's guardian saint was working overtime again. Interesting when one considered how much thinly veiled envy many of the students held against him. "You know, we should do something for him in gratitude. I don't think he's appreciated enough."

"I wouldn't worry too much about him. He's got the Headmaster to tell him how much he's appreciated. I'm curious about you, though. Why did you go wandering in the halls after midnight?"

Eric tried to remember; it was all such a blur. "It was something about the chamber – I think I figured out where it was. Where did you find me?"

"In the hallway where Mrs. Norris was attacked."

Eric concentrated as hard as he could. The hallway – the stairs on either side – the windows – the out of order bathroom. "I have it! I'll show you later, when we're back in the dorm."

Eric continued to work life back into his limbs. "So, how long have you been sitting there?"

"Luna, Dorian and I have been switching off. Without Hagrid, we thought it was important that someone watch over you. Katie sat with me occasionally, too. So did our prefect, until she was struck down, too."

"Woah, it was a busy monstrosity, wasn't it? I don't suppose it caught any Slytherins in it's path?"

"They've been going on about how they were immune, saying that the creature was only attacking muggle-borns."

Eric laughed at the thought. "That's a crock. What I know about my parents could fit in a thimble, but I do know one thing: my mother was a witch. That means I'm at least half-born." Looking over to Hermoine, he thought about her talents and sheer ability. "You know, this proves at least one thing once and for all."

"Oh, what's that?"

He looked back at Naomi and smiled. "There's really no difference between muggle-borns and true-bloods. If a basilisk couldn't sense the difference, no one can." Eric paused from his stretching to lie back. "You know, there's one thing I can't figure out. I remember it – I can still see it's scales, it's mouth, and I looked it straight in the eyes. If it was a basilisk, how did I survive?"

It was Naomi's turn to laugh; a sound that was as enjoyable as it was rare, driving away every dark thought that plagued him. "Eric, you were sleepwalking again."


	15. Chapter 15

The year's end feast was in full swing in the main hall, but Eric had no desire for it. He rested in the Ravenclaw common room with Luna, Naomi, and Dorian. They were leisurely finishing off a splendid meal Willy had brought for them, along with the news that there would be no finals this year. "It's the least they could do for those of us who missed the last few classes."

Dorian was even more pleased. "Yeah, and for those of us too distracted by the possibility of getting killed and eaten to concentrate properly."

Naomi was delicately scooping a custard. "You said you'd tell me about what drew you into that hallway."

Eric looked back at the pile of papers conspicuously stacked on a corner shelf. "Remember when I said that the chamber's entrance had to be guarded? Well, it came to me that night. Whenever a remodeling project approached that one section of the school, there was always a set of notes indicating that one of the school's governors took an interest in it."

He walked over to the pile of papers and sorted out several invoices. "In each case, one surname kept coming up. In a mass this big, it would be hard to pick out this one area particularly, but here are some examples."

The quartet looked over the signatures on the papers. Andreus Malfoy – Cornelius Malfoy – Artemus Malfoy – Darius Malfoy – Augustus Malfoy.

"If we checked a register of governors, I bet we'd find that a Malfoy has sat on the board since the time of Salazar Slytherin. Each time that part of the school came under repair, it was a Malfoy who selected the contractor. In all likelihood, they were companies run by former Slytherins." Eric drew the papers aside and dropped back into his chair.

Dorian appeared confused. "I don't understand. The Malfoys hate everybody who aren't like they are. Why wouldn't they have used the chamber years ago?"

Luna's eyes rolled to the window. "It is a rare thing for the world to be aligned well enough for evil to prevail."

It was Naomi that suggested a more plausible answer. "First, they probably don't have a talent for parseltongue. It's a rare gift, and needed if someone was going to face a basilisk. However, more important is the fact that they are opportunists. They'd never risk their own skin. It's much safer to find someone with the needed talents and bend of mind to do their dirty work. The fact that it took over nine hundred years to find such a person tells you how low someone would have to sink in order to be suitable."

Drinking down a warming cup of cider, Eric looked to his friends. "Should we tell the headmaster? There's nothing here that we can solidly prove, you know."

Naomi looked back. "If I was in charge of the school, I'd want to know if one of the governors were plotting to kill my students. Even if he couldn't do anything about it, it helps to know."

This left Dorian with one last question. "Ok, but if Hagrid didn't open the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago, who did?"

Eric and Naomi looked at each other, then back at Dorian. "Who do you think?"


End file.
